


Soft focus

by Hypatia_66



Series: All in honour [4]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Gen, House of Vanya, Original Character(s), Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 02:25:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14034123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypatia_66/pseuds/Hypatia_66
Summary: Post-series, pre-Return movie: early 1970s. Old friends pass like ships in the night.





	Soft focus

**Author's Note:**

> Added to the sequence in the All in Honour series

**Soft focus**

“Must I?”

“Oh, but you must. You are so perfect together!”

“We look ridiculous, Chantal. She’s taller than me.”

“Chéri, it doesn’t matter. You look so, so, beautiful together. It’s the chemistry between you; it shows in every shot. It will make every woman want to buy it to get that chemistry.”

To get _you_ she meant.

Illya was adamant that he would not appear in publicity shots in close-up unless in back view. He ran his hands through his hair before remembering he wasn’t supposed to. Designing was one thing but posing and all the nonsense that went with it, wasn’t really his thing. The photographs said differently, however. He and his model did look very striking together. As for the chemistry, there was that moment posing in each other’s arms when he realised that hopes in the chemical direction would be worth pursuing.

The photographer was ready for the next series of shots, and Marie Christine emerged. He was about to run rather sweaty hands down his trousers then remembered they were velvet and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket instead.

She smiled at him and drew him to his feet. He put an arm around her and turned to the photographer. “Why don’t we take some outside, using Paris as a backdrop – long shots, soft focus.”

The results were pretty good and would work well as background scenery for a window display. It was his senior in the partnership who decided they would be used in New York. Illya pored over the prints and anxiously checked the full-size panels to see if he could be identified. He thought he might have changed sufficiently to be unnoticed as merely part of the background for the model, and in soft focus he could be anyone.

As the designer, he was going to New York, too, but with Marie Christine as his accompanying muse this promised to be more pleasurable than it might have been. She had even agreed to sharing a suite. While this preoccupied him rather pleasantly, old training kicked in when they arrived. He tried hard to dodge the photographers and hid behind sunglasses and a hat, a ploy that usually draws more attention than it prevents. Marie Christine’s looks and figure, however, attracted even more and, to his relief, Illya’s role in the resulting shots turned into merely the gaze of the required background male.

oo000oo

The computer business was on a roll and getting bigger and better. Napoleon’s prestige and success lay in the persuasive charm he employed to reassure businessmen about the improved balance sheet his computers encouraged. Who knew where it would go in the future? Its challenges were almost as exciting as his previous job – almost. He got to travel extensively, to meet a great many people, to date a lot of attractive women, make a lot of money. And not once did he need to watch his back or … watch anyone else’s back... and, of course, he hadn’t needed to kill anyone in quite a while.

Released from a long day at this game, Napoleon walked along window-gazing as he headed for a favourite restaurant. One window display, in particular, made him stop and look more closely. The long, flowing, sensuous lines of the clothing were really very striking. He knew a lot of women who would look sensational dressed like that. Loose, wide pants, a halter-neck top that left little to the imagination, a great slouch hat. Wow. All-in-one pant suits with a zip fastener from breast to navel – ideal for seduction. Sexy stuff all of it. He looked at the designer’s logo spread out behind the models in the window. It meant nothing to him, but it was redolent of Paris. Some of the panels in the display contained photos of Parisian street scenes in long-shot. Several were of a couple wearing the clothes in the display.

Soft focus obscured the details, but Napoleon’s gaze was caught by an image he thought he knew, blurred or not.

The hair was longer, the shirt unbuttoned a lot further under a dark blue velvet suit (what!), but the angle of the head and that nose and chin gave it away. The willowy model on his arm was taller, inevitably, but stunningly gorgeous and looking at his profile in a way that sent shivers down Napoleon’s back.

Surely he hadn’t taken up modelling? Could it be Illya? Napoleon examined the window display again. A French designer – already established in London, it seemed – setting up in New York. How did Illya fit into that? Had he left UNCLE, or could he have been photographed without his knowledge? Had he really wanted to be used in such a public advertising campaign? Was it really Illya? Napoleon felt an anxiety he had almost forgotten.

He stared again at the display. It couldn’t be anyone else; no-one else looked like that. He would have to come back and ask the manager or something – see if they knew. He moved away, remembering the last time he’d seen him… Illya’s pallor, the crack in his voice as he called his name.

He’d walked away without looking back and had never got back in touch. He’d meant to, but the longer the gap, the harder it was to pick up a phone. Except once, a year or so later, and then he’d found Illya’s phone line dead. He didn’t attempt to make contact through UNCLE. It really was over.

Maybe he’d try his product on the store owner and manager. He’d call them in the morning. He could ask about the new fashion display too.

oo000oo

Napoleon’s sales pitch went well. The Head of Accounts could see the benefits to the business of a computerised ledger; Stock Control thought it might revolutionise warehouse processes; the only slight dissent came from the Personnel Officer who was more reluctant to submit what he saw as his own knowledge of his staff to a machine. Knowledge was power, so giving it to a machine would mean his role lost some of its prestige. Napoleon’s charm went some way to dispel this anxiety but, like most ineffectual people about to lose status, the man remained unconvinced.

They answered his own questions in general terms – the French fashion house was a new venture for them. They had agreed to provide a sales space and see where it went. The designer and his model? They were in New York at the moment, certainly. Their names? Oh, now, what were they? Foreign. They spoke French together. What, Russian? No, English if anything – maybe Scottish, he had a bit of an accent. Ian something, wasn’t it?

oo000oo

Napoleon walked away, thinking about the discussion he’d just had, and failed to notice the taxi that drew up behind him. He therefore failed to see the attractive couple that stepped out of it.

Marie Christine’s hat obscured Illya’s view of the street as he accompanied her into the store. He left her to pose for photographers again and went into conference with the manager.

oo000oo

The window display had attracted a lot of attention and sales of off-the-peg versions of the clothes were already extremely successful, as Illya was informed when he arrived in the manager’s office. He sat down to look at the sales sheet, and then sniffed – there was a scent of cologne. Familiar, but not the manager’s brand, he was sure. Much too expensive. It brought back a vivid memory and made him blink.

The manager noticed his distraction and said, “Strong, isn’t it! The guy wearing it was here not long ago, and it lingers.”

“Who was it?”

“A guy selling business machines – computers to help with ledgers and stock control and so forth. Can’t recall the name. My secretary would know – Nat something.”

Just a coincidence, then. Illya suppressed the image it had conjured up and said, “Oh. So, are you thinking of buying a computer?”

“Sounds like it might be a good idea.” He looked up and smiled, “You might like to know that it was the window display that brought him in. It’s been remarkable – everyone raves about it.”

Illya smiled politely and bent over the books again.

**ooo0000ooo**


End file.
